


linger on (i can't move on)

by LosersOnlyDotCom



Category: The 100 (TV), The 100 Series - Kass Morgan
Genre: Additional Warnings in Author's Notes, Bottom Lexa, Clexa Step Mother AU, Dom Clarke, F/F, F/M, Finn is always demonized and I hate it, I will also never do Costia dirty she just is too good, Lexa is 18 at the start of this fic, Light D/s, M/M, Messy Bottom Lexa, Multi, Polyamorous Bellamy, Polyamorous Finn, Polyamorous Raven, Sub Lexa, Switch Clarke, Switch Lexa, Top Clarke, consensual and healthy polyamorous relationship, m/m/f, step-daughter Lexa, step-mother Clarke, step-mother x step-daughter, too many tags I'm sorry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-13
Updated: 2017-02-13
Packaged: 2018-09-23 23:41:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9687650
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LosersOnlyDotCom/pseuds/LosersOnlyDotCom
Summary: She found herself climbing out of her bedroom window onto the roof, craning her neck back to look up at the constellations, trying desperately to think of anything other than her step-mother.Truly, a porn-trope may as well have interjected itself into her already-busy-enough schedule.Step-mother AU, loosely based on prompts and the step-sister AU by geralehan. Title from "Autumn Tree", by Milo Greene.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [i'd give up forever to touch you](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7449658) by [geralehane](https://archiveofourown.org/users/geralehane/pseuds/geralehane). 



> Hello. I'm new to this. The only qualifications I can present to you are as follows: several middle school writing competition awards; an intense love for English and literature; a certificate of identification as a lesbian....supporter; and an active imagination. Hope that you will all bear with me. 
> 
> In all honesty, this is just an experiment for myself to try my hand at an "old-flame" art-form.
> 
> I will do my best to notify you if there are any noticeable trigger-warnings throughout the piece. 
> 
> In this chapter, there are some allusions to Lexa dealing with heavy depression, grief, anxiety and OCD. Additionally, there are some moments mentioning her tendencies towards calorie-counting and over-exercising; if you're ED-sensitive, PLEASE be mindful for yourself. And of course, big ol' warning for explicit sexual material involving an age-gap later on in the chapter--I'll be honest, there's going to be a lot of that, so this will be your first and final notification on the matter. 
> 
> Title for this chapter is from the great Sappho's poem "Return, Gongyla". Unoriginal? Perhaps. But I like it. First quote is from a different poem of hers, entitled “No Oblivion”. 
> 
> Hope you vaguely approve.

**_Someone, I tell you, in another time,_ **

**_will remember us._ **

Lexa allowed a slight huff to escape through her nostrils as she lowered the book onto her desk and allowed herself the comfort of a temple-massage. Closing her eyes, she did her best to picture the walking trails by her house: three blocks south, take a right, cross the field and enter the tree-line...

_An open, relaxed throat allows for the most efficient breathing. Allow the neck to release. Let the shoulders fall open towards the back. Count to ten. Now count to ten again-_

Abruptly snapping her eyes back open and forcing them to focus, Lexa pushed her glasses further up her nose, rising from the desk as she did so. Picking up her book, she glanced once more at the title-- _The Complete Poems of Sappho_ \--before shoving it in her satchel and swinging the bag over her shoulder. Glancing down at her phone, her brow furrowed before she resolved to permit herself thirty extra minutes on the elliptical machine. Mindless exercise tended to help her alleviate-

"Lexa." A kind voice interrupted her methodical planning, not entirely unwelcome, and Lexa lifted her gaze to meet that of Marcus Kane. The dean of students stood a few paces away from her, concern simmering in the man's brown eyes, but a neutral expression offsetting his face. 

"Marcus. How are you faring?"

A slight upturn at the corners of his mouth was Kane's only indication of affection for her distinctive vernacular. "Faring well enough, Lexa. Do you have a moment? Thelonius and I would love to have a chat with you regarding your plans for next year. We couldn't help but notice tha-"

"Of course," Lexa affirmed, adjusting her satchel further up her shoulder. "Lead the way."

\--

“So what I’m getting is, they want you to go ahead and apply to Yale before the end of September. Which, as I’d like to point out, I told you to do in the first place.”

Lexa was glad Anya was over the phone so the older woman couldn’t see the small smile that had touched her face. “If it were anyone else, they’d wait until at least October before- “

“You’re not anyone else. You’re _special_ , kid, of course they’re gonna be on you about this.”

Ignoring the blush of pride at Anya’s words of praise, Lexa plowed forward. “In all honesty, Anya, I’m still not entirely sure that I’m in the correct state of mind to be jumping into this next year. It seems rash, and I can’t afford to be hasty. I’m unfortunately still a little… compromised, but- “

“Don’t,” Anya interrupted gently.

Tension manifested in Lexa’s jaw.

“Listen,” Anya began hesitantly, “you’re never going suddenly forget about her and be able to… I don’t know, magically function the same way you used to? She wouldn’t want that. And she wouldn’t want you to put your life on hold out of grief, you know that, she’d want you to move forward- “

“I know.” Lexa cut in curtly. “I know what she would have wanted, I don’t need to hear this.” 

“… I’m sorry.”

A mirthless snort. “No, you’re not. But you mean well, you always do.”

A moment of silence.

"I'm sorry for snapping, Anya."

“Please, wouldn't be a phone call if one of us didn't snap."

Lexa snorted. "We should probably work on that."

"Probably. Talk things over with Titus, yeah? I know he’s a royal pain, but he does know what he’s doing. He’s indubitably half the reason I got into Harvard.”

The corners of Lexa’s mouth twitched. “Ready to be school rivals?”

“I just thought you’d be following perfectly in my footsteps forever… _Yale_. So _disappointing_.”

\--

Clarke let out a slight groan. Wincing slightly, she rolled off the couch and made her way into the kitchen to brew coffee. _Last day._

She contemplated, briefly, the thought that she would miss it.

The “living with her three closest friends” feature was certainly enjoyable enough. But the time was right; Clarke hated feeling like a burden, and now that the opportunity presented itself, it was time to take care of her own life. How could she take care of others if she couldn’t take care of herself?

Not to mention the aching sense of loneliness she felt every time she saw how enamored everyone around her was.

Coffee began to drip from Lorde Collins II (as Finn had christened the coffee machine) while Clarke patiently sat in the kitchen and scrolled through the news on her phone, waiting for her friends to arise.

By the time the coffee had finished brewing and Clarke had closed her safari, the bedroom door opened, revealing, in all his glory, a shirtless Finn Collins. Clarke smiled at him affectionately as he stretched out, yawning.

A goofy half-grin lit up his handsome face when he saw her. Stumbling over, his floppy brown hair an admittedly very attractive disaster, he scratched at his defined stomach before adjusting his hastily thrown-on pajama pants. 

“Sleep well, idiot?” Clarke teased.

Flashing a caricatured wink, Finn pointed finger-guns at the blonde. His smile widened as Raven Reyes appeared in the doorway, muttering something about NASA’s Cassani project while adjusting the ties of her robe as she limped over to the kitchen.

Bellamy’s voice boomed from the bedroom. “Raven, you forgot your brace- “ 

“She’s sitting, don’t worry,” Finn called back innocently as he swept a squawking Raven into his arms and carried her over to the kitchen chair, plopping her gently next to Clarke. He dropped a playful kiss onto the top of Raven’s head before sweeping over to the cabinets, pulling out four mugs.

“Hey Princess, grab the cream for me?”

Raven wordlessly reached for her mug while Finn passed it to her; Finn had everyone’s “cream-routines” down to a science. Raven always took it straight. The slender Latina wrapped her hands around the mug, huddling into her robe for warmth before Finn took the hint and stood behind her chair to wrap his arms around her.

“Finn, can I borrow a t-shirt again? Laundry’s still on the to-do.” Bellamy was the last to walk out of the bedroom, dressed from the waist down for the gym. His headphones peeked out of his sweatpants pocket as he bent down to adjust the laces of his running shoes.

"I’m tempted to say no, you look better with no shirt,” Finn quipped. “But I can’t have all of Alexandria ogling at you in the gym, so I guess it’s okay.”

“You just wanna see if you’re buff enough to fill in Finn’s shirts, don’t lie,” Raven yawned.

Giving his partners a smirk, but refusing to entertain a response, Bellamy disappeared back into the bedroom.

“Does anyone know for certain when exactly this new studio is going up? Or do you guys think it’s all a ploy for me to keep submitting applications until the day I die,” Clarke muttered, scrolling through her phone with a scowl. 

“Clarke, the whole purpose of a sugar-daddy is to ensure that you don’t have to worry about that,” Raven pointed out after taking a sip of coffee.

“Speak of the devil, you’re meeting his kid today and moving in, yeah?” Finn inquired, directing his attention to Clarke.

Clarke winced. “I was kind of hoping we could ignore that fact and enjoy our last morning in the apartment together.”

“We all know that this is far from your last morning with us, Princess.” 

Bellamy snorted from within the bedroom. Clarke sent a scowl in his general direction before turning back to Finn. “Titus and I set this up a while ago, planned the date and everything- “

“He sounds spontaneous,” Raven murmured.

"Raven, when I decided to go for him, it was because I thought he was attractive enough, I didn’t think he’d turn out to be a monk who thrives on repetition.”

“You know, that does surprise me,” Finn cut in, “dude has a sick tattoo on his head, didn’t peg him as the all-work-no-sex type of guy. I thought he’d have a motorcycle, at least.”

"Right? No offense Clarke, but why is he interested in you at all? I mean, if not for your tits-"

"Way to be crass, Raven."

"-what does he like about you? You said you guys don’t vibe well.”

A shrug. “Well, I'm pretty damned smart, Reyes, some people find that hot. And I suppose it looks good for the figurehead of a company to be married. I get the money to start doing what I want for a living, he gets a few more clients at his law firm. Gave the hospital my two-week notice yesterday. Mutual win.”

“Didn’t account for the daughter, though,” Raven pointed out.

“That does complicate a few things. If all goes well, I figure she’ll be gone off to college soon enough, won’t have to worry too much about interacting with her.”

“Shit, Clarke. You don’t even get a cute little kid, you gotta put up with a moody teenager,” Finn laughed.

Clarke grinned. “She’s half the reason I’m even anxious about today, to be honest. We all know how I am with kids."

Raven snickered. Rolling her eyes, Clarke continued.

"Titus always mentions her, but I’ve never gotten anything about her personality. Hell, I’ve never even seen a picture-”

“Just keep your happy triangle updated,” Bellamy quipped as he walked from the bedroom to the front door, ruffling Finn’s hair as he passed.

 -- 

Clarke craned her neck back to look up at the gates of the large estate in which she was currently parked. Being enclosed in the gates themselves, she looked out at the surrounding area. Pine trees ran rampant, a small forest shielding the mansion from the rest of the world. Mountains painted the landscape behind them, and Clarke could already picture how beautiful the stars would look at night. The view really was exquisite.

It’s a shame that the iron-wrought bars abruptly made her feel like a prisoner.

Raking her eyes over the tree-line once more, Clarke turned and walked with a forcibly-relaxed gait up to the front door. She hardly had time to raise a fist to knock before the door opened, revealing a _massive_ man.

Clarke blinked. 

He looked down at her with his chin jutted out, making him look all the more imposing (if at all possible). He looked to be in his forties, standing over six-feet tall and sporting long, dark hair pulled-back into a braid. The sides of his head were shaved. An even longer, well-kept beard hung over his chest. Muscles bulged from behind the confines of his clothes. And his _tattoos…_ they covered his hollow cheeks, extending to his temples. Clarke would stake her life on the bet that he had more.

Taking a slight breath, Clarke stuck her hand out and offered her best smile.

“Khal Drogo. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

The man looked down at her, utterly unamused.

Clarke withdrew her hand.

\--

Keeping her eyes closed, Lexa breathed in. Held the breath for five seconds. Exhaled.

Sufjan Stevens played gently in the background. Two scented candles were burning on her desk. This was her time.

She was seated comfortably on the hardwood floor of her bedroom. Free moments were precious; she took every opportunity to meditate that she could, and she did not take it for granted. Debating between executing a series of Tai Chi katas or running through her yoga warm-up, Lexa chose the latter. She deserved a break. 

She was about to begin when she heard a knock at her bedroom door.

“Enter,” she called, brow slightly creased in confusion. Titus wasn’t supposed to return from work for another two hours.

Gustus walked in, flanked by a blonde young woman who looked positively dwarfish behind his considerable frame. She couldn’t have been more than thirty. All too quickly, quiet understanding dawned on Lexa.

“I’m sorry Lexa, I’d forgotten that Titus had scheduled this meeting to occur when he was away, allow me to intro- “

“ _You’re_ the new step-mother in a long, promising lineage of ex-Mrs. Woodses. Clarke, isn’t it?”

Gustus sighed.

If Clarke was taken aback, she didn’t show it. Without missing a beat, she looked at Lexa (who was still seated comfortably on the ground) and replied, “And you’re the hostile teen I get to send off to college. Lexa, is that right?”

Deadly silence filled the room. Gustus looked at Lexa, completely at a loss. Clarke was firmly maintaining eye-contact with Lexa, unwilling to look away first.

Lexa’s lips quirked. “I think I may like her better than the last one, Gustus.”

\--

Two months passed as the two gradually eased into the process of coexisting.

It’s not that they didn’t get along. They were incredibly similar in many aspects, Lexa noted, save for the fact that while Clarke was physically ten years older than her, Lexa may as well have been mentally forty years the elder.

Well. In Lexa's opinion, anyway.

Clarke was headstrong and determined. She cared deeply about those closest to her, though Lexa never got any personal information about her friends beyond passing mentions of names. She was intelligent, much more so than she let on, and put others before herself with an almost masochistic selflessness. The resemblances, Lexa begrudgingly noted, were certainly there.

Yet the differences between the two were stark; Clarke, while an intellectual being by nature, relied on her gut instincts to make decisions. She was an artist; Lexa only knew because she was observant, Clarke seemed to fancy herself a mystery.

Lexa, on the other hand, prided herself in her sincere and unadulturated rationality. Calm and collected, able to think things through carefully. She was practical and needed tangible proof about something before making a verdict; an aspiring law-student at heart. Oh, she’d read _Blink_ by Malcolm Gladwell, she’d sat through forums at local colleges debating the benefits of immediate reflex and decision-making, but Lexa needed more than theory. She needed back-up. She needed cool, collected, thoughtful response.

She didn’t trust herself to rely on anything else.

In the few conflicts that the women had experienced thus far, that particular trait of hers turned out to be what incensed Clarke the most.

A clash of habits came to a head unexpectedly about a month into living together. Lexa got up at six and dressed for her habitual morning hike. She glided downstairs and put the kettle on, grabbing a banana as she did so. Crossing to one of the cabinets, she pulled out her appropriate pill-bottles and quickly downed her medications with a glass of water.

No sooner had she reached the front door when Clarke unceremoniously popped up from behind the couch. Lexa nearly went into cardiac arrest.

Clutching at her chest and leaning on the wall next to the door, Lexa closed her eyes. “Good _morning_ , Clarke.”

“Did you see this Facebook article? Apparently 1500 people wasted their votes in the fucking presidential election by writing in ‘Harambe’.”

Lexa chuckled. Clarke’s head shot up from her phone, a glare quickly marring her pretty features.

“I hardly think it’s funny, Lexa- “

“Sources?” Lexa interrupted.

“… What?”

“The sources,” Lexa repeated patiently. “Citations. Where is this information coming from?”

“We have a _racist, sex-offender… clown_ as our president elect because people wasted their votes on a _meme-"_  

“I'll agree on the first part of that sentence. But before I get up in arms, I would like to know that the information spurring me to do so is correct. You can’t always let your immediate emotional reaction dictate-”

“Considering the decade in age-difference, d'you think you could hop off the life lessons for two seconds?” 

"I’ll be going on a hike,” Lexa continued, as though unaffected by the comment, “and I suggest you do some further research before gathering a militia to attack the 1500 meme-extremists.”

 --

Clarke married Titus in November, shortly before Thanksgiving. The guest list was predominantly made up of coworkers and family from Titus’ side, though Lexa did note a good few unfamiliar young faces she assumed belonged to Clarke’s friends. Curiously, there seemed to be no sign of Clarke’s parents. Lexa filed the information away without pursuing her curiosity, she had no intention to pry.

It was a small, quiet wedding, taking place in a remote church that lay nearby the Woods mansion. The dress rehearsal went smoothly. Titus and Clarke decided to forgo the traditional “bridesmaids and groomsmen” aspect, so that efficiently eliminated that stressor.

Lexa was accompanied by Gustus. She cut a striking figure in a form-fitting black dress and gold body-chain, though it did garner some unwanted ogling from a gangly young man seated amongst Clarke’s friends. A well-placed glare from Gustus sent his eyes back to his inky-haired friend beside him.

The worst part of the entire ordeal wasn’t the overwhelmingly loud dinner-reception that set her nerves on edge. Lexa was used to dealing with being sensitive to noise. The worst part wasn’t pretending to be engaged in conversations with people she hadn’t seen in years. Lexa was a good actor; she was training to be a lawyer, after all.

The worst part wasn’t sitting through a rather impersonal ceremony, crammed into wooden pews with far too many people. The worst part wasn’t even watching her adoptive father kiss his eighth consecutive bride in the past sixteen years.

The worst part was having the breath knocked out of her lungs when Clarke walked down the aisle.

 --

Closing her eyes, Lexa leaned against her bedroom door. She had shut it with a gentle click, but in the silence and solitude, it was as if a slam had reverberated throughout the empty house.

Titus and Clarke had been gone on a short honeymoon for a week now, leaving Lexa alone with her thoughts. Typically, the girl would prefer this.

Since Clarke Griffin had entered her world, things were no longer _typical_.

It wasn’t that Clarke was going out of her way to jostle Lexa’s regime; quite the opposite, in fact. The blonde seemed perfectly content to avoid her new step-daughter at all costs.

The problem at hand lay in the simple fact that, for the first time in months, Lexa was alone… and Costia was gone. Perhaps Lexa hadn’t realized it in the tumultuous passage of time, but she had taken solace in the fact that while she had lost her lover, those closest to her where also alone. Her social group was limited (three people, to be exact), but the lack of romance in all of their lives seemed to help her almost forget.

 _Almost_.

She starkly recognized that this was no longer true. Anya had been seeing someone at Harvard recently. Gustus had married a doctor named Nyko, and though her bodyguard kept his personal life relatively closed-off, Lexa could tell that he was more content. And now her father was married; whether or not it would last is yet to be seen, but at least he had a warm body to curl up with at night.

Hating herself for feeling so disgustingly _needy_ and helpless, Lexa fiercely blocked out the thought in the deepest, darkest confines of her mind, there was a part of her that needed to be _held_.

Perhaps this is how she found herself binging on whole-grain crackers while everyone else was gone one Friday night. Immediately regretting the excessive intake of calories, but feeling too bloated, sick, and miserable to panic, she resolved to take an extra hour on the elliptical machine the following day, before collapsing into bed and berating herself until she fell into a troubled sleep.

\-- 

Titus and Clarke had returned to the estate during the second week of December, and Lexa continued to navigate around living with an extra person in the house. Titus was incredibly easy to live with, despite his absurd expectations, mostly on account of the fact that he was rarely (if ever) home.

Clarke, on the other hand, volunteered at an arts studio during the week. Her shifts ended around the same time Lexa got out of her classes, so there was a strange hour or two they both shared in the house before Lexa would leave to instruct at her family’s martial arts studio.

Weekends were even more bizarre, with Clarke gone most days (and nights) to visit friends. Yet Lexa would run into her unexpectedly every time the blonde came back. At nights, when Lexa got home from instructing late after helping Aden perfect a particularly challenging lock. Mornings, when Lexa was leaving to go hike and would run into her on the driveway.

Most recently, an evening when Lexa had just gotten out of the shower. She had slipped into her flannel pants and sports bra, deciding to forgo a shirt in the small walk back down the hall from her bathroom to her bedroom. Wringing out the excess drops of moisture in her hair, Lexa was turning out of the bathroom entrance when she ran smack into Clarke.

Blue eyes widened. Lexa jumped in surprise.

“Jesus- “

“Sorry, I’m sorry- “

Both women took a moment to breathe, Lexa reigning her fight-or-flight reflexes in while Clarke awkwardly coughed.

“You uh, wanna give me the name of your trainer?” Clarke joked halfheartedly, purposely keeping her eyes downcast.

Lexa paused.

_Is she… checking-… no, that can’t be it. That’s a customary straight-girl question, anyhow._

“I, ah… I don’t have one.”

Clarke was clearly at a loss for words, Lexa carefully observing as she struggled with what to do next. Sharp green eyes took in the view of the older blonde resolutely refusing to look at her, one hand curling slightly into a fist.

_Fascinating._

“Right, well… I’m gonna go get lunch, you can join me if you want? You need to… eat a sandwich, or something.” Clarke made one last feeble pass at a jest before attempting to brush past Lexa without touching her. Without thinking, Lexa reached out and grabbed her forearm.

Clarke froze. Lexa felt the goosebumps on the skin of her arm. Worrying that she overstepped, Lexa quickly released her and cleared her throat. “Actually, I ate a bit more than usual yesterday, taking it light today.”

Furrowing her brows, Clarke finally looked at Lexa directly with slight unease. When she spoke, her voice was gentle.

“One day won’t ruin everything, you know. You don’t have to be so strict with yourself all the time.”

Blinking, the words hit Lexa with a much greater weight than the younger girl would have liked.

When she didn’t respond, Clarke shrugged. “I mean, Christmas is coming soon, might as well lighten up a bit.”

“I suppose,” Lexa mumbled, lips slightly pursed. “I was actually thinking about reading for a bit, you go ahead. Thank you for the offer.”

Turning away and refusing to spare the older woman another glance, Lexa walked purposefully to her room, shutting the door behind her with as much silence as possible.

Taking in a shaky breath, Lexa closed her eyes and willed herself to fight against brusquely crashing waves of arousal, confusion and guilt.

Crossing to her immaculate desk, her hands fumbled through her top drawer until her fingertips brushed against the familiar coolness of a picture-frame. Drawing it out, she looked at the image so committed to her memory.

The Lexa in the picture sat outlined by a large window, holding a cup of tea in her long hands while Costia sat behind her, curling her limbs around her girlfriend and nuzzling her nose into the junction between Lexa’s shoulder and neck. Her soft, dark skin glowed in the natural light cascading over the two.

Self-hatred coursed through Lexa’s body as she felt the hot tears she'd been desperately pushing back begin to fall.

_Weak._

Her brows pinched together as she willed her shoulders not to shake with the weight of her quiet, choked sobs.

_I’m so sorry, Cos._

\--

The arrangement she and Titus had set up regarding intimacy was discussed at length before they became engaged.

Titus was a man wrapped entirely in his work. His sole focus in life, aside from Lexa, was to ensure that Trigeda thrived. The law-firm itself was a corporate business, founded by several of his mentors when he was an active attorney. And he was determined to keep it flourishing until Lexa was old enough to take his place.

This being said, Titus had little to no interest in sexual familiarity.

Clarke was a different story.

As she thoughtfully rubbed more lube onto the strap-on currently jostling between her legs, adjusting the ties snugly around her hips and giving Niylah’s ass a preparatory slap, Clarke contemplated whether she should be feeling guilty or not.

Really, there was no reason to be. Titus had given his blessing; for as strict as the man was, he was fairly liberal in matters that didn’t really concern him. Because he didn’t wish to concern himself in it, this disregard extended to Clarke’s sex-life.

Nonetheless, as Clarke slid into Niylah from behind, carefully wrapping a hand around the other woman’s neck to feel the vibrations of her low, gratified moan, she couldn’t help but feel as though fucking her friend after recently being married to a man for financial convenience should give her moment to pause.

Guess she could thank societal condemnation of sexually and financially liberated women for that.

Smirking as she settled the front of her body over the smooth, warm skin of Niylah’s back, Clarke began pumping her hips, reveling in the pressure on her clit and the filthy noises it evoked from her friend.

She and Niylah had met about a month ago, Clarke having gone out to a local bar to celebrate completing her final shift at Arkadia Medical. The pretty, older blonde owned the small drinking establishment, and happened to be bartending that night.

Niylah had a striking, uncommon name. Niylah was kindhearted. Niylah was witty. Niylah was intellectually-stimulating.

Niylah was also physically-stimulating.

Closing her eyes, Clarke let the incessant, wet slapping of skin on skin wash over her ears.

_It’s been too long._

 --

She found herself climbing out of her bedroom window onto the roof, craning her neck back to look up at the constellations, trying desperately to think of anything other than her step-mother.

Truly, a porn-trope may as well have interjected itself into her already-busy-enough schedule.

Closing her eyes and visualizing the laundry list of things she had to complete by Friday, Lexa snuffed out the cigarette she’d guiltily gone through before climbing back in her room. After walking to the bathroom and disposing of the filter by flushing it down the toilet, she prepared to go back to her room before a non-distinct noise stopped her in her tracks.

Immediately on high alert, Lexa ran through a list of options in her head. No doubt the trespasser heard the toilet flush, so her element of surprise was compromised. It wasn’t likely that someone had snuck in the house without Gustus’s attention, but it wasn’t impossible. And sneaking down the stairs to alert him would be too risky.

Gustus didn’t have access to texting (something Lexa would clearly have to talk to him about, dammit), and Lexa feared that calling him, even should she whisper, would be too noisy. Titus wasn’t home, there would be no sense in texting him immediately.

Between her martial arts training and home-field advantage, she didn’t doubt her ability to take an intruder down. The biggest threat would be if he (or she, Lexa supposed… though supposing that it was a violent crime attempt, more than likely a he) had a gun. 

The smarter thing to do would be to jump out of the window and run. 

Between a slightly troubling disregard for her own safety ( _thanks, mental health)_ and the fact that her bedroom was on the third floor, Lexa decided to chance it.

Padding silently back to her room to retrieve the stainless steel sword she had hanging on her wall, Lexa crept back into the hall. A muffled thumping noise from down the hall once again sent her heart into overdrive, though she remained silent and impassive.

Adrenaline heightening her senses, Lexa quickly determined which room the sound likely came from: the master bedroom.

Cursing silently, she readjusted her grip on her sword and slinked down the hall, hyper-aware of avoiding creaking spots on the floor with the practice someone who had lived in the same house for years.

When she came outside the door in question, her mouth set in a grim line when she realized that it wasn’t fully closed. On the positive side, she wouldn’t have to burst through the door, but the idea of slowly sneaking in almost kicked her anxiety up to a new level.

Holding her breath, and once more securing her grip on her sword, Lexa reached out with her left hand and silently pushed the door open widely enough to accommodate her slipping past.

Couching down, she cautiously poked her head around the door, and promptly almost dropped her sword at the sight that greeted her.

_Christ on a cracker._

Clarke was splayed out gloriously on the king-sized bed, breasts heaving, back arched, legs spread and fingers curling in the sheets. Between her legs, a thin blonde woman lay on her stomach, eating Clarke out with a diligence Lexa could only describe as impressive.

“Oh, fuck, _baby_ ,” Clarke groaned out. “ _Yes_ , such a good girl, just like that- “

Ears practically on fire, Lexa carefully extracted herself from the doorway and all but sprinted back down the hall into her bedroom, locking the door behind her.

Hanging up her sword, furiously trying to ignore the visual of her stepmother’s ample tits rising and falling, desperately willing away the thoughts of how deliciously Clarke’s husky voice wrapped around the words “ _good girl”,_ valiantly disregarding the pulsing wet heat trapped between her own thighs, Lexa reached into her satchel and pulled out another cigarette.

She doesn’t feel guilty about smoking this one.

\--

Lexa’s usual Saturday Kali class was unorthodox, to say the least. After lining everyone up and bowing in, Lexa swept her gaze across the faces of her thirteen loyal students. Expectant, disciplined eyes blinked at her in response. Tight knuckles clenched around Escrima sticks.

Try as she might, Lexa could not bring herself to block out Clarke’s gentle words from the other day: _one day won’t ruin everything._

“We’re going to do something slightly different today,” Lexa began, eyes calculating the response from the room. Most of the kids just looked confused _._

_Perhaps I’ve been too strict with them after all._

“You’ve been an incredibly hardworking class for me, so I do believe a holiday reward is in order. Instead of me leading the class, our roles are reversed. Today, you all are the teachers, and I am the student.”

A moment of puzzled silence passed. Lexa resisted the urge to cough, standing at attention as usual, hands behind her back.

“ _We_ get to teach _you._ ”, Tris stated, breaking the pause.

“Today, yes. If the consensus is to branch beyond martial arts, we may.”

“It can be anything?”, Aden asked, a small grin appearing.

“… To an extent.”

\--

As ideal as “ _one day won’t ruin everything_ ” sounded, Lexa caved to the overwhelming urge to get a proper workout after class. Small steps. Regardless of the fact that she begrudgingly spent an hour learning to… hit something called “the quan” (she thinks?) from the kids, she didn’t feel as though it got her blood rushing sufficiently.

Pulling into the driveway, Lexa rolled out her tense shoulders. She really did hate winter. The cold triggered even more tension in her upper body than usual, rendering all of her efforts to be released and pliant futile.

Walking up to the front door, she punched in the security code and walked into the house. Habitually, she walked by Gustus’ office to say hello before remembering he was away on his holiday break. Titus’ car was not in the driveway, and when Lexa went to check her phone, she found a text waiting from him.

 _Got called in late for work. Gotta stay if I want to have Christmas off. Probably won’t be home tonight, I’ll just stay in with Roan. I’ll see you tomorrow, Lexa._

Now, this wasn’t out of the ordinary, but Lexa still arched a brow in response. This was the first time he had stayed late since Clarke moved in with them, hopefully he remembered to text-

No sooner had the thought crossed her mind when Clarke walked in the door, blonde hair swaying as she hunched slightly over her phone. Eyebrows faintly furrowed, she dropped her purse off on the counter, keeping her focus trained on the screen the entire time.

Lexa stood there awkwardly, not sure if alerting Clarke to her presence was necessary or not; truth be told, Clarke having a heart-attack because she didn’t know Lexa was in the room would hands-down be the funniest death Lexa could witness. Not to mention sweet retribution for the time Clarke had spooked her.

And _yet_ , the grating thought that Clarke simply looked _too good_ \--in her _fucking_ pea coat and _irrationally_ tight pants and _dangerously_ high-heeled boots--to die buzzed in her mind like a persistent fly.

The silence continued for another unbearable moment (or four seconds) before Clarke sighed and shoved her phone into her coat. Lexa cleared her throat; Clarke’s eyes shot up to meet hers.

Lexa shifted. “He occasionally does this. He simply stays up in Polis with his friend Roan, saves him the hour-long drive back home.”

Nodding, Clarke moved to take her phone out of her coat and throw it on a nearby charger next to the Keurig. “Makes sense.”

Lexa waited until Clarke had put her coat away and walked back into the kitchen before opening her mouth to speak again, and then realized she had no idea what to say. Clarke looked at her, not expectantly, but as if she too recognized that this was the first time both women had been in the same room (house, technically) alone together.

“I’m going to- “

“Do you wan—ah shit, sorry- “

“No, it’s alr- “

“I was just—damn.”

Clarke clapped her hands together, then brought them up to point at Lexa. “Tell you what, I’m gonna make some drinks, feel free to do… whatever.”

Swallowing the urge to respond with ‘ _Obviously I will, it is my house’_ , Lexa tersely nodded before walking over to the stairs.

She paused. “I’m going to take a shower,” she announced unnecessarily.

Walking up the stairs, Lexa heard the distant sound of Clarke letting out a sigh and hooking up her phone to the wireless speaker; soft music began to play, but Lexa couldn’t discern what it was by the time she got to the top of the staircase.

A small smirk grazed her face when she thought of Clarke’s latest reaction to seeing her shirtless. Lexa wouldn’t lie; she was proud of her body and how hard she worked to get it. She had to give up a lot, and it was hell to maintain, but she was persistent. Gustus called her puny, Anya a noodle, but both underestimated how much endurance lay hidden in her small frame.

Nothing made Lexa feel more attractive than taking a shower after working out. She lathered her organic shampoo with traces of mint into her hair, balancing out the scent with her guilty-pleasure body wash ( _Old Spice Timber, shoot her homosexual ass_ ). She debated shaving everything down for the second time today before deciding doing so would be overkill.

Padding into her room, Lexa toweled off and ran a brush through her long, tangled hair. She sprayed herself with a bit of her pine-scented perfume before throwing on a sports bra and a simple pair of black panties. Lexa’s eyes fell to the bottom drawer of her dresser, contemplating her next move.

_Would it be too forward…? I mean, is there such a thing as ‘too forward’ when you’re trying to make someone think you’re pretty? I don’t think ‘too forward’ exists when applied to the principle of seducing your stepmother._

With an air of decisiveness, Lexa threw on her pair of loose-fitting grey sweatpants she’d bought the first time she had allowed herself to shop in the "men’s" clothing section. Looking at herself briefly in the mirror, she scanned her toned, slender frame (still slightly damp from the shower, ten points to Lexa). Her long, thick wet hair encircled her body, her flat stomach trailed down to her v-line over the waistband of the sweatpants that sat _just_ perfectly below the waistline of her underwear… and for the first time in a good while, she felt _desirable_.

\--

Taking a deep breath before entering the kitchen, Lexa nervously twisted her hair before catching herself and scowling. _This is, by far, the most imprudent idea you’ve had yet. You have no guarantee that the physical yearnings will go away if you’re even successful in this endeavor-_

Her feet betrayed her as she realized all too suddenly that she was in the kitchen and Clarke was very clearly in her line of sight, drinking out of a glass. Lexa’s eyes disobediently strayed from their intended plane down to observe Clarke’s hips swaying (out of time) to the beat of whatever song was playing on her phone.

“What are you listening to?”

Clarke started, nearly sputtering on her drink. Lexa was analyzing Clarke’s every response; if she was attracted to Lexa, she was covering it up well enough with the guise of not having heard her enter the room, but Lexa could have sworn she saw Clarke’s eyes sweep appreciatively over her body. Perhaps even widen a miniscule amount? Bizarrely, she wished suddenly that she was close enough to see if Clarke’s pupils had dilated.

Clarke had clearly been drinking for the entirety of the time Lexa had been showering, which wasn’t very extensive, but an empty shot glass lay close to a bottle of Fireball, so Lexa felt safe in assuming that Clarke was perhaps a bit buzzed. Maybe that was why Clarke had been a bit slower than usual in covering up her response? Supposing she even _had_ a response, this whole plan was based on a series of hypothetical ideals-

“Um… it’s by Frightened Rabbit, I think. Ah, let me check,” Clarke started, jolting suddenly over to her phone and tapping on the home button. A blush suddenly covered her pale cheeks and lovely, ample chest that Lexa was _absolutely not looking at because that would be downright boorish of her_ , _get it fucking together-_

“… Don’t laugh, but it’s called ‘I Wish I Was Sober’.”

“Not really a song I’d drink to, but there’s irony in the title, I suppose. Bad day?”

Clarke raised her drink in response, a small grin overtaking her face.

Lexa was struck suddenly by how beautiful she was.

In all of her infinite wisdom, Lexa had no idea of what to say in a situation like this, so she decided to proceed in the best way she knew possible: peace-offerings.

“When I was young, and I had a difficult day, Gustus would make me spaghetti for dinner. I’m not sure if you’ve eaten or not, or if you’re even hungry, but… you should know that I am capable of making a mean spaghetti.”

Clarke arched an eyebrow. “A _mean_ spaghetti?”

“I’m not responsible for what it may say or do, but I think it fair to warn you: it has insulted parents in the past.”

A surprised chuckle shocked Lexa (and seemingly Clarke, who herself emitted it). 

“Pasta that trash-talks my mom. However could I resist.”

Lexa calmly walked over behind the counter, gliding past Clarke a bit closer than necessary, to grab the vital pots and strainer. Reaching into the cabinet containing Gustus’ backup boxes of whole grain spaghetti (taking absolute care to flex her stretched-out abdominal muscles as she did so), she pulled a box out and began prepping. Keeping her tone light, she began to try her hand at casual conversation.

“Anything particular about today that was trying?”

“Had to talk to the mom, speak of the devil. Being Christmas Eve, and all. She wanted to have some holiday-family-fun-times, I guess,” Clarke responded tightly, her smile growing spiteful before continuing to down her drink.

_Alright. Avoid mother subject. No use talking about ‘mommy-issues’ with my own-_

_…_

_Absolutely fucking not. By God, if She exists, that was the first and last time I will ever_ think _of referring to Clarke as my_ mommy _-_

“Ah, that’s right. Christmas Eve. That’s tonight. I’d forgotten.”

Putting down her cup, Clarke pointed at her from behind the counter. “That’s right, I forget that you’ve got that whole, ah, semi-Buddhist… thing going on for you. You don’t celebrate Christmas?”

“I was never made to endure the Santa ordeal, but Titus did make it a habit to notify me of the change in marketing during the season. Always keeping eyes on the commercial aspects. On the more fun side, he and Gustus always got me a gift every year, it’s more of a sentimental tradition for us than a religious practice.”

Clarke smirked. “Business from an early age, then, I see.” When Lexa gave a conceding shrug, Clarke’s smirk grew into that of a knowing grin. At this point, Lexa had filled the pot with water and turned the stove on, getting ready to pour in a portion of the box and salt the water, but Clarke’s thrice-damned smile got on her nerves.

“Something you’d like to share about _my_ life with me, Clarke?”

Throwing up her hands in surrender, Clarke, keeping her vexingly deliberate smile, backed off. “A funny thought popped into my head, that’s all.”

“Share, by all means,” Lexa responded coolly.

Narrowed eyes gaged Lexa’s unflinchingly neutral expression. After a moment of hesitation, Clarke shrugged. “I’d hate to have seen you go through puberty. I’m sure it was a riot to witness. Watching you  _compute_ all that _particular business._ ”

Lexa’s mouth dropped. After a second of shock, she closed her mouth and pursed her full lips together, resetting her face to its impersonal stance. _But her eyes…_

Her eyes _blazed_.

“I hardly think you can assume to know what my particular experience was, Clarke,” she said tightly, struggling to keep her tone light.

A snicker from the blonde led to a longer, more uncomfortable silence.

It was clear, in the space between the women, that some unspoken button had been pushed.

Clarke had no idea what it was.

“Actually," Lexa started coldly, unceremoniously throwing the strainer into the sink, "what would _you_ know about my life, Clarke? What do you presume to know about anything beyond the two months you’ve known me?”

Clarke, unable to think of a good retort, refused to answer. She stubbornly maintained eye-contact.

“Are we lost for words?” Lexa sneered. “That _is_ remarkable. That’s the first time I’ve observed that from you.”

Again, no response beyond a stare from the blonde woman. She seemed exceedingly taken aback at Lexa’s harsh reaction. 

“You hate my advice, the  _life lessons_ , as you call them,” Lexa continued, keeping her voice dispassionate and derisive as she advanced on Clarke, “but I think now is as appropriate a time as ever for you to receive some _enlightenment_. I do _not_ operate on a solely intellectual platform. I _don’t_ typically act out on my feelings, because not only is doing so foolish, refusing to do so usually keeps me _sane_.”

At this point, the brunette had turned off the stove and reached the other side of the counter. She stood about an arms-length away from Clarke. Her face felt hot. Her heart was beating erratically, her brain felt fuzzy, but she couldn’t stop speaking.

“You think I haven’t noticed the way you look at me, Clarke?” Lexa breathed. “You think that I don’t notice how much you desire intimacy? Connection? Of course you do, you’re a human being. _I’m_ a human being, Clarke.”

Clamping her jaw shut, Clarke regarded her with hazy eyes. Lexa moved closer. She could smell Clarke’s perfume.

It smelled like danger and femininity and everything attractive about older women.

“You care so much about other people”, Lexa murmured, eyes scanning Clarke’s face, taking in the cleft on her chin, the beauty mark above her lip, the blue of her eyes. “You’d think you would pay more attention to how people _operate_.”

Clarke’s back was now pressing against the counter, Lexa pressing flush against her body.

“I’ve never considered myself a particularly licentious person,” Lexa whispered, full lips inches from Clarke’s mouth, “but there is something you should know about me and how I operate, Clarke. Living with you recently, I _can’t_ operate. _Right now_ , I can’t operate. I can’t operate until you _fuck me senseless_.”

Clarke’s breath caught.

Saying the words themselves caused Lexa to flush, but the heat was already travelling throughout her body down to settle between her legs. Her breath seemed high, as if it couldn’t properly fill her lungs. Her vision was nearly out-of-focus.

The first time she and Costia had sex, Lexa had sobbed throughout the majority of the experience. Not for pain, but because when Lexa gave over to physical pleasure, it was total and absolute submission. She gave all of herself; perhaps it was on account of the fact that she usually _held so much in_ that she lost control in the bedroom.

Right now, she was shaking like a leaf.

Green eyes urgently sought out blue, until Clarke leaned the slightest bit towards the younger girl. Taking this as a sign, Lexa surged forwards, before whatever courage she had mustered flew out the window, and pressed her lips to Clarke’s.

The firm touch of soft, wet skin took her breath away.

The kiss was like a catalyst. A moan escaped Clarke’s mouth and vibrated into Lexa’s. Clarke deepened the connection, tongue tentatively venturing past Lexa’s lips into the heat of her mouth. Lexa gripped on to the back of Clarke’s neck for dear life as the older woman’s fingertips dug into her hips.

She arched her back and pressed her body flat against the blonde’s, aching for as much contact as possible. She felt more than heard Clarke growl in satisfaction. Her knees gave out.

Clarke took this remarkably well in stride, dropping her hands down to Lexa’s hamstrings, forcing Lexa’s knees around her hips, lifting the slender brunette easily. She spun around to place her on the countertop, effortlessly sliding between her legs to continue ravaging her mouth.

When they broke away for air, Clarke frantically searched for Lexa’s eyes, panting. Full lips parted as Lexa looked down at Clarke in amazement, pupils blown, eyes half-closed.

_Is this okay?_

The unspoken question burned between them, both women clearly asking the same thing.

“Lexa-,“ Clarke husked.

“ _Please_.”

It came out as more of a broken plea than anything else.

“Stand up.”

Whimpering in need, Lexa slid off the counter with no hesitation. Clarke cradled her jaw gently with her fingers, teasing Lexa with an open mouth, but backing away before the younger girl could kiss her.

“ _Turn around_.”

Hesitation. Lexa looked at Clarke unsurely, wanting to obey. But a more selfish part of her wanted to drop in front of the blonde and nestle between her legs, gazing up at full, heaving breasts, listening to Clarke’s low, gravelly voice moaning out her name-

As it turned out, she didn’t have much of a choice. Clarke suddenly forced her around and bent her over the counter, roughly parting her legs with a thigh. Lexa felt a stronger, unexpected pulse of even further excitement.

“You’ve wanted this, haven’t you,” Clarke breathed, almost in awe. “I’ve seen the way _you_ look at _me_ ; you think _you’re_ not obvious? Walking around shirtless like this for me?”

In a rush of cold air, Clarke shoved Lexa’s sweatpants and panties down her long, lean legs. All at once, Lexa felt deliciously _exposed,_ panting into the tabletop. Her quiet, breathy whines got higher in pitch as she felt Clarke’s hands roaming to harshly shove her sports bra up to reveal small breasts.

Pressing one hand down on the small of Lexa’s back, Clarke snuck the other around to gently fondle Lexa’s chest. Lexa felt Clarke smile against the skin of her back as she elicited a sharp groan from the brunette when she pinched a sensitive nipple.

Clarke’s hands were not smooth; her palms were slightly calloused, her fingers shorter and wider than Lexa’s, but the slightly rougher feel of her skin felt pleasurable. Abandoning her chest, Clarke smoothed her hands down the expanse of Lexa’s back--resulting in the younger girl helplessly drawing up like a bowstring--to caress her tight ass.

“ _God_ … you like it rough, don’t you?”

Lexa didn’t trust herself to form words.

A sharp smack to her ass extracted a sharp inhalation.

“Answer me, pretty girl.”

Clarke patiently waited as Lexa struggled to verbalize, softly stroking her other ass-cheek before striking down once more when Lexa took too long. Lovely, possessive red hand-prints marked her skin.

Lexa was moaning freely, dizzy with arousal. 

“Clarke, please,” she babbled, on the verge of indecipherable, “ _please_ , I’ll be good, I promise I’ll be good, _please_ -”

Clarke shushed her softly. “I’ll take care of you, Lexa. Just tell me what you want." 

“I… your fingers, I want… fingers.”

Another sharp slap reverberated through the kitchen, accompanied by a cry from Lexa. 

“More specific, babe. What do you want me to do with them?” 

“ _God, Clarke_ … just fuck me with them, please just… _fuck me_ with your fingers, I- “

A hand curled in her hair at the base of her scalp, gratifyingly pulling her hair. “How many?”

Lexa hesitated for a moment, struggling to decide. Both she and Costia had longer fingers, but Clarke’s were wider, certainly no more than-

“Ah… two? Please, Clarke, just- “

A groan of pornographic proportions escaped her lips as Clarke sank two fingers into her from behind. She slammed a hand onto the counter currently supporting her torso, other hand grappling desperately to find something to hold on to.

A warm brush of skin found her hand, but rather than lacing their fingers together, Clarke wrapped her fingers around Lexa’s wrist, pinning her hand down next to her body. Lexa writhed helplessly, bucking her hips, frantic for any movement.

“Please, _move_ -“

Fingers rounded and Lexa’s back arched even further in response.

The pace Clarke set started out slow, too slow for Lexa’s liking, as she allowed the younger girl some time to adjust to the penetration. Every time Lexa would buck her hips back impatiently with a whine, Clarke would shush her.

“Do you _want_ to be sore tomorrow?”

A small laugh escaped. “I’m not— _oh_ —I’m not... _opposed_ to it— _fuck_ -“

Clarke set a brutal pace, pumping her hips behind her hand to add force. Her fingers were clever, twisting to brush against the front of Lexa’s wall and _perfectly_ hit the spot that made the younger girl’s toes curl.

A series of “ _oh_ ”s, getting breathier and higher in pitch, began to fall out of Lexa’s pretty mouth in tandem with each thrust Clarke administered. The force of each thrust rocked the table, creating a rhythmic thumping, and smashed Lexa’s hips even closer to the surface of the table, resulting in a slight pain in her hipbones that did _nothing_ to distract her from the greater pleasure of grinding her clit against the smooth, polished wood.

Noticing the younger girl’s minute wriggling, Clarke smirked and administered another harsh smack to Lexa’s behind, reveling in the surprised squeak it produced.

“None of that, now. Only I get to touch that, you got that?” she cooed lowly in Lexa’s ear, continuing her onslaught.

Letting out a slight sob, Lexa obediently lifted her hips higher, arching up and more fully presenting herself to her stepmother.

Eyes widening slightly in appreciative wonder, Clarke refused to let up, pumping in and out with a methodical precision, her other hand curling at the base of Lexa’s skull, fingers entangled in her brunette hair.

“ _God_ , you look so good like this. Bent over for me. Begging _for me_. You’ve thought about this, haven’t you… _Fantasized_ about it.”

Lexa’s incoherent, heaving pleas weren’t the answer Clarke desired.

Another spank.

“ _Answer me_.”

“ _Yes_ ,” Lexa choked out, eyes rolling back. “ _Yes, Clarke. Yes.”_

“Such a dirty girl,” Clarke murmured, rewarding Lexa by releasing her hair and snaking her hand around Lexa’s front to rub her clit.

Lexa keened.

Smiling, Clarke circled two fingers around Lexa’s bud and listened to the way it made Lexa pant even harder.

Normally, Clarke would have demanded that the younger girl ask to cum. But she took pity on Lexa, seeing as she’d ruthlessly pounded into the girl for a good while before giving her clit proper attention. So when Lexa hurtled towards the edge, Clarke did not stop her.

The lithe, sinewy muscles of Lexa’s long back locked up. Her mouth hung open, plump lips glistening. The veins in her neck bulged.

Then all at once, her world fell away. She released with a high wail of Clarke’s name, body writhing, hips jerking. Clarke felt the fluttering of Lexa’s silky walls as they tried to milk her fingers.

The older blonde continued circling Lexa’s clit, helping the younger girl ride out her orgasm, before Lexa slumped over and whimpered out, “Please stop… Clarke, it’s too much, I _can’t-“_

Panting, Clarke gently pulled her fingers out of her stepdaughter and stepped back. Blue eyes blown, she looked over her handiwork; Lexa laid out boneless on the kitchen counter, ass a pretty pink color, hair mussed, a trail of wetness running down her thighs.

Blood pounded even harder in Clarke’s ears.

_Oh, fuck._

Staggering backwards out of the kitchen before she could do anything else, Clarke turned and ran out the front door.

Lexa slowly raised herself off the counter, wincing at the satisfied ache in her pussy before her eyes raised to see the front door cracked open and Clarke nowhere in sight.

  _Oh, fuck._

**Author's Note:**

> Side note, this is just my director/actor-brain taking over, but if I could film this sex-scene, I'd want Glass Animals' cover of "Love Lockdown" to be playing... sick, sexy 'lil tune. 
> 
> If anyone cares to know the location of the story, I've taken what little knowledge we have of where the show takes place (around Washington, D.C.) and set it in the nearby city of Alexandria, Virginia. Coincidentally, a city with the namesake Lexa was given. 
> 
> I’m not entirely pleased with how my writing in this fic has started, but my initial draft of this chapter was laden with background information. Figured that I should at least give a little bit of beginning conflict/rising action before I bore you all too much with backstory (though that will come). Time-hops hopefully won’t be as much of a thing as we continue. 
> 
> Reviews/constructive criticism ALWAYS appreciated and encouraged. Haven't written in a long while, so advice is more than welcome. I'll do my best to update as quickly as possible. 'Til next time. 
> 
> \- You don't have to be lonely/at LosersOnly.com


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